


Peel It Back

by MadameFolie



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Multi, Names, That's It that's The Kink, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-15
Updated: 2017-02-15
Packaged: 2018-09-24 13:10:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,898
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9729485
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MadameFolie/pseuds/MadameFolie
Summary: Yuri's too embarrassed to call Yuuri by name. But Yuuri and Victor insist.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Set some years after the series, they're still kicking around St. Petersburg and have reached a mostly comfortable equilibrium. With only a few kinks, so to speak.

"Yuri," Katsudon says, and it's the only warning Yuri gets before Victor grabs his wrist.

 

"We need to talk." Talk? Victor's voice is serious, but he's got that look on his face. Like after the dinner and the wine and the ice cream, he's still starving. Greedy motherfucker. He's the one whose hands should be shaking, not Yuri.

 

"About tonight," Yuuri finishes for him, hanging his coat by the door nice and smooth. He takes his time looking over to them. "At the restaurant."

 

"What?" What's to talk about? The joint was fancy, and he'd acted accordingly. No slouching, no swearing, no matter how stuffy it was -- and it was pretty tempting to take the place down a notch. But no, if anything, it was idiots one and two getting stupid. He got a healthy helping of footsie under the table from Victor that he's pretty sure was meant for Yuuri. There was the way Yuuri closed his eyes, leaning over to press his tongue to Victor's ice cream on the bridge. By literally every standard of judgment, Yuri's been a goddamn saint.

 

"Yuri," Yuuri repeats.

 

"Does it have to be a fucking guessing game? Jesus, Katsudon, if you've got something to say--" Victor's fingers tighten around his wrist, just for a second. It's almost a reflex, like the swing of a knee hit in just the right place.

 

"I can hold him," Victor says. "If you can grab something to tie him with."

 

Victor steers him to the bedroom. When he pushes him down against the mattress -- and it really is a push, he doesn't shove like he could with rough abandon, it's powerful and deliberate -- he leans in to keep his weight on Yuri. The cologne he put on earlier hasn't totally faded away just yet. Yuri breathes in and fills his lungs with him as well.

 

"I expected better of you, Yuri," Victor tells him. "Yuuri expected better of you."

 

"I _still_ don't know what you're talking about." But his heart is pounding and he feels just this side of too light. His senses are smothered, everything is Victor. Everything except the sliver of illumination from the hall that's slitting open the dark room. There's a soft voice at his shoulder:

 

"Victor--" and the sound of something passing between fumbling hands. Then the sound of lips separating.

 

"Go ahead," Victor breathes. "I've got him." Something goes around his wrists, folding them together across his back like scaffolding, and it secures them in place. Wrist to forearm, forearm to wrist. Victor's legs are spread across his thighs, hands braced on his shoulders. No give, no matter how he bucks. They're a formidable damn team when they want something, those two. And once Victor rolls off him, he finds he can't move. It's up to Victor to haul him back to sitting: he leans Yuri against his chest so he faces Yuuri, who's busy making himself comfortable at the head of the bed. His hair's doing it's damnedest to escape the full-out lacquering of gel and spray they'd needed to slick it back. He's focused and it's intense, incredible. Radiant. A tiny part of Yuri wants to lay his cheek against Yuuri's knee and rub off against the mattress.

 

But that's not what Victor and he are playing at.

 

"Katsudon," Yuri snarls. Yuuri frowns the same way he used to --Christ, it's been that long?-- years and years ago. When Yuri'd still been a stupid kid, so sure of himself, so sure of everything. It's the way Yuuri used to look at him when he remembered precisely that. Yuri has to tear his eyes away.

 

"Yuri, hey. Come on-- please look at me." He starts crawling forward on his knees.

 

"God, _what?_ All this fucking whining and whining." Yuri snorts. "'Oh, Yuri, we have to talk!' Great! Let me just use my mind-reading powers and--"

 

"Yuri," Victor cuts him off. He thumbs open the button at Yuri's breastbone. "Let him speak."

 

"No, I know Yuri. He'll listen. Won't he?" He turns his focus to Victor. "He's already listening. See?" And Victor, well-trained, obedient Victor, palms his way down Yuri's chest. He nuzzles up behind his ear, right where it meets his jaw. It scratches against the stubble just beginning to come back in.

 

"And I've got the best seat in the house for the show." Yuuri brushes his thumb against Yuri's lip.

 

"I don't know about that," he says, and brings their lips together. The kiss is so brief, it's almost as bad as if they hadn't touched at all. Still, Victor's starting to get hard. Yuri lets his head fall back onto Victor's shoulder. He doesn't want to _talk_. He just wants to lose himself to the sensation.

 

"I mean it, look at me."

 

He can’t. Meeting Yuuri's eyes is like staring directly into the sun. It’s such a steady presence you could just take for granted that it’s there, but one look right at it for what it is could sear the ghost of light right into your retinas for hours. He lets his eyes dart to the side so he can see Yuuri out of the corner of his vision – can’t hide behind his hair this time. As he thought, the intensity of Yuuri’s consideration is blinding. His heart stammers. Fuck.

 

"Katsudon.”

 

“Try again.”

 

“Shut up, old man, I’m talking to him, not you.”

 

“Yuri,” Yuuri says. Suddenly, all eyes are on him.

 

“……..shit,” Yuri breathes. It spills off his tongue higher and thinner than he meant for it to.

 

“Yuri,” Yuuri repeats and it sends a shiver down his whole body. God, he’s so fucked. “Let me see you.” He’s biting his lip so hard he can feel the skin going raw. Victor’s hands don’t budge on his arms. So. Probably not going to do it for him. Because like, why _would_ they ever make things easy. He forces his chin forward.

 

“There you are,” Yuuri says, and smiles. Yuri feels his guts falling out. Proverbially, but still gross as hell. Yuuri's expression is so open, so fond, that Yuri aches.

 

"Just tell me," he pleads. Victor whines into his hair.

 

"Cheater."

 

"Maybe. But he did ask nicely." Yuuri kisses him again, slower, deeper. Victor's fully hard and Yuri can feel his own arousal growing insistent.

 

"Fuck." Yuuri's so close, Yuri could rock up against him if he tried. He could fight Victor's hold on him. But Yuuri puts a hand to his cheek and says:

 

"Yuri-- say my name?" It stops him cold.

 

"Your.....name?"

 

"Yeah." Yuuri begins to unwind the tie holding his braid in place, combing the plait open with his fingers. "I want to hear you say my name."

 

"That's-- don't be ridiculous, Katsudon, I always--" he catches himself just as Victor begins to laugh. "Shut up!" Ugh, he could _kill_ him, if he didn't want them both so badly. Victor's got his hands on Yuri's hips and even the promise of them slipping under his clothes is enough to send a dizzying pang through him.

 

"He's right, I've never heard you call him by name." And then, quietly enough for only the both of them to hear, Victor adds: "What's the matter? Don't mind his cock in your mouth, but his name's too much?"

 

And fuck him if it isn't effective-- it goes right to his stomach, right to his cock, right to the part of his brain that remembers the weight of Yuuri on his tongue. The same part that weighs the mass of a name upon it and somehow gets the same neurons firing. The last thing he needs is to get those wires crossed, too. It's bad enough that just thinking about saying it has his pulse racing.

 

"Why...?"

 

"Because. When it's just us, I.......I guess...I just want it to be real, you know?" He sets aside Yuri's unspun hair, resting the backs of his knuckles against his face. The points of pressure feel white-hot on his skin. Victor’s breath stutters against his ear. "No titles, no posturing. Just us."

 

"You're such a bleeding heart," Yuri says, because this-- it's shit like this that makes Yuuri such an incandescent existence. You'd never know there was so much passion burning away under all the unassuming sweaters. And Yuuri, fucking Yuuri, looks at him so gently, smiling like he's in on the joke as he moves on to take over unbuttoning the rest of Yuri's shirt.

 

"Yeah, probably. Are you going to say my name?" Hell. Since they're being honest here, Yuri figures he may as well come out and say it:

 

"It's hard," he confesses. His tongue feels leaden. Yuuri peels his lapels apart, baring his breast. His heart's pounding so furiously he almost wonders if Yuuri can see it through the muscle and bone. It's not like he has anything else left to hide behind.

 

"Oh?" Yuuri strokes his stomach, stalling over the trail of brassy hair at his navel. Victor traces the arc of his throat. And they want him to talk like this?

 

"You said.....because it's real, right?" He shudders, trying not to think. It's overthinking that gets people in trouble all the time on the ice. "It's.....what kind of asshole would I be, if I could be fucking flippant about it?" Victor curses against his ear. Yuuri, stunned, swallows hard.

 

".....that's fair," he says. It's more air than voice. "Victor-- help me with his pants."

 

"Of course." Victor steals a palmful him through his dress pants, heel of his hand heavy on Yuri's cock. Fuck. _Fuck_. "And I'll even give our Yuri a hand, too. Try it," he urges Yuri. "It feels nice-- _Yuuri_." He rolls the word around in his mouth slowly, takes the vowels deep into his throat, tongues the 'r', sighs his name like he's the one being stripped open. Even now he can't help rocking himself up against Yuri, even as he fumbles the fastening of Yuri's pants open.

 

"Shit," Yuri keens. Yuuri's watching Victor's hands on him with such intent, it burns to be under his consideration. Yuuri rakes a tooth across his lip -- and glances at Yuri's face.

 

"Yuri..."

 

"Yuuri," Victor says again. The zipper clicks open beneath Victor's fingers.

 

"Wow. The two of you really look amazing like this." His eyes fall shut. "Ah....I wish I could kiss you again."

 

"Oh? Are we incentivizing, now?" Victor wrests Yuri's pants and underwear down off his hips, leaving them bunched at his knees so that he's trapped, hand and foot. Yuri tries to steady his breath. Don't they know what that does to him? Apparently it doesn't seem to matter to Yuuri, who's lost himself in opening his own clothing: bent over, shirt untucked, pants opened, he works himself with his hand to some image in his mind. His breath catches on something only he can see.

 

"Something like that. Oh," there's a flick to his wrist. Then some twitch of the thumb. "Ah. Please, Yuri, let me _touch_ you-- say my name." His erection, what Yuri can see of it, is flushed dark as a blood bruise. How long, Yuri wonders, has he been like this? "If you knew how much I want you...."

 

"Yuuri," Victor moans. "Yuri." They're going to kill him. The police are going to find him stone dead one day with his pants around his ankles and a mouth full of dick and the headlines are going to read "Promising Young Skating Star Fucked to Death by Washed-Up Assholes". And god help him, he'll have loved every goddamn second of it.

 

"Hey," he manages to spit out. It's a one hell of an accomplishment, given the way Yuuri's arching into his own grip and the way Victor's grinding up against him. "Katsudo-- Katsuki. Shut up for a second, would you?" Yuuri forces out a shaking breath, but stills. Dazed, his eyes flutter open. He's so handsome like this, splayed out across the sheets, adrift in his hunger. Makes Yuri think that, hell, could be worth it.

 

"Yuri?"

 

"....all I have to do is say it, right? And then you'll touch me?"

 

"Simple, right?" Fuck Victor, fuck him and his stupid, smug sniping. Fuck his own stupid cock for liking it. Yuri shifts his hips away. Let Victor suffer a little for once tonight.

 

"Yes," Yuuri says. "That's all."

 

"Fine," Yuri spits, and braces himself. "It's fine, I'll do it--" He feels like he's standing at the precipice, looking out over the edge. "I'll just-- Come on, touch me, please--" He inhales deeply. "I need you, Yuuri."

 

Just like that it's out there, hanging in the silence between them.

 

"Yuri," Yuuri breathes. His eyes are wide. Yuri licks his lip. He did it. He really did it.

 

"Please-- Yuuri--"

 

Yuuri clambers to his knees. He bumps his lips to Yuri's forehead in benediction.

 

"Yes. Yes-- well done," he says. "Victor, lay him down." Yuuri really does have him wrapped around his finger; fully hard and fully dressed, Victor gets off the bed to manhandle him into place. Now that it's crossed his lips, it's like he can't stop it flooding out. Yuri groans.

 

"Yuuri--"

 

Yuuri braces himself against the headboard with one hand, the other holding his cock steady. He doesn't even bother with the rest of his clothes, only baring enough of himself to whet Yuri's desire. Woah, but what a concession it is.

 

"Is this what you want?"

 

"Yes." He shifts his hips. He's starving. He doesn't want-- he _needs_. "Please."

 

"Ah. Wait. Not so fast." Yuuri sits back against his chest, though it's pretty obvious it's tearing him up to wait. He's trailing a little wet in the hollow of Yuri's throat. "You'll have to ask me for it."

 

"I _said_ please." He earned it. Yuuri promised. It's Yuuri, Yuuri doesn't go back on promises.

 

"'Please, Yuuri.' Ask me." Oh. So it's part of the game. It's a stupid game to be playing this far along. But if that's all it's going to take....Yuri screws his eyes shut. Well. Whatever. He can be embarrassed tomorrow.

 

"......please, Yuuri," he begs. "Please, just give it to me. I need you, please, please-- your cock, anything, I want to touch you, Yuuri, please, _Yuuri_ \--"

 

"Shh. I'm here." Yuuri curls his fingers into Yuri's hair just to feel it coil around them. "I'll take care of you."

 

He nearly gasps when he finally feels the head of Yuuri's cock on his cheek. He's warm and slick at the tip and the smell of his arousal is so thick, it's overpowering. Yuri tries to dig his toes into the sheets, but Victor grabs onto his ankles and holds him still. It narrows his world right down to their touch and their touch alone. Anything less would be cruel. He can't bring himself to resent Victor for it.

 

"Yes," Yuri sighs. "More, Yuuri--" And Yuuri obliges, with the drag of it along his skin. Yuri's never been a religious man, but Yuuri's name and the pleas pour off his tongue like prayer. His shoulders burn from the strain of the bindings.

 

"I want to suck him off." Victor mouths at the dip of his knee. Instinctively, Yuri starts to shiver-- but finds no give.

 

"As soon as I'm done." Yuuri changes his angle so that his cock falls across Yuri's lips. Yuri lets himself open to him, if only for whatever taste he can have. And Yuuri fucks him, as slow and deliberate as anything he does with passion at the core. When Yuuri comes, it's wrapped in his own fist, the tip of his cock pressed against Yuri's cheek so that he spills warm along his face. It's Yuri who lies there winded instead. His chest swells and sags with the effort of restraining himself.

 

"Let me see him," Victor moans. "You've been keeping him all to yourself, it's my turn now."

 

Yuuri slides off to lay against Yuri's side.

 

"Ta-daa," he says, a little breathless, a little bit laughing. He motions to Yuri's face; Victor whistles his appreciation.

 

"Nice work." He takes Yuri into his hand, wrapping his palm around him casual as an afterthought. "We should go for a double next time. Give him a matching set." Yuri wants to tell him he'll bite his dick off if he tries. Smug asshole kisses the side of his cock, though, and all that comes out is: "Fuck." Of course, Yuuri's no help when it comes to Victor. He lets Yuri out of the bindings on his arms without so much as a word in his defense.

 

"Relax, let him take care of you. I'll go grab something to get you cleaned up."

 

Yuri's shaking, damn Victor and his eager mouth.

 

"Um," he mutters. "Okay." He isn't sure he's ready for it to really be over. He wants to lie here longer with Yuuri's come on his skin and his name on his lips. Between his legs, Victor groans. He's pushing against his hand, rolling and bucking, relentless in taking his pleasure. Relentless in taking Yuri's too. Yuri lets himself lie back against the pillows, one hand resting on the crown of Victor's head where it's solid and warm. Victor likes that kind of thing. "Thanks, Yuuri," he adds, after a moment.

 

Yuuri turns and smiles, lit by the phosphorescent glow from beyond the bathroom door.

 

"Of, course, Yuri."


End file.
